Page 71 of Brutal Savior

“Just one,” I call at their retreating backs.

Left alone with just the boys, I scan the room for Kendrick. “Where’s the boss?”

“Not here yet.” Seb checks his watch. “He won’t waste time mingling. You know what he’s like. He’ll arrive just in time to sit at the head of the table. I think he watches us from the shadows and waits for the perfect moment.”

Gabriel disappears long enough to grab three glasses of champagne and hands one to me. I sip it. Nice, but not as refreshing as a beer. Gabriel glances over at Quinn, who stands in a huddle of Wards. From the occasional outraged glances they all make in my direction, I’d guess they’re discussing her outfit.“How’s it going, then, with her? Eve really likes her. Says she’s fun.”

I snort. “That’s one way to put it. Hard fucking work is another.”

“Drop the act.” Seb eyes me shrewdly. He’s such a joker that it’s easy to forget how intelligent he is. “I’ve never seen you so happy. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“My work is really suffering. I’ve hardly put in twenty hours of lab time since she—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Seb shakes his head. “Just admit you got lucky. For once in your life, something happened that you didn’t plan, and it worked out perfectly.”

I don’t know why I keep feeling the need to deny it. Seb is right. As I watch, though, Quinn looks my way, whispers to Eve, and sidles up to the drinks table, snatching not one, but two glasses of champagne. She downs one like it’s a shot, sets the empty down, then sips the other daintily, pinkie finger held out like she’s at a fucking garden party.

She glances at me and wiggles her pinkie before turning back to Eve. It’s going to be one of those evenings, I can tell. I won’t say anything yet. Let her dig her own grave a bit deeper.

“I’m thinking of making that stamp her tattoo. The one on the T-shirt.”

The boys both pause to consider. Gabriel nods. “I like it. Nice and simple. Very you. And it looks like she could do with the reminder. I’m pretty sure she just did one of the vodka Jell-O shots.”

Fuck’s sake.

Just as I’m about to drag Quinn off for a serious conversation, a bloke dressed up like a butler rings a silver bell. One of the over-the-top affectations of this place, trying to make us feel like we’re old English country gentlemen and not a bunch of weirdos living in a Compound in the middle of the fucking woods.

Quinn approaches, her half-drunk flute of Champagne held in her delicate hand. She brandishes it at me. “See. Just one.”

I snatch it out of her fingers and down the lot. She scrabbles at my hand. “Hey!”

“I saw what you did. You’re going to pay for that later.”

We set off toward the private dining room that’s been set up just for us. It looks like a hunting lodge. Wood paneling, gilt-framed paintings of men on horseback, and even a few actual deer heads. Quinn squeals when she sees them and, before I can stop her, runs over to one.

She stands on her tiptoes, stretching to stroke the deer’s cheek. Christ, she looks good in that position. Her little crop top rides up, showing off the slim curve of her waist, and I can just see the bright pink knickers I made her wear under her skirt.

She twists, shooting me a grin. “I’ve never seen one of these things in real life before. It’s creepy. I love it. Can we get one for the bedroom?”

Notyourbedroom.Thebedroom, like it’s something we share. It’s a massive step in the right direction, and that pleading look she’s giving me is dangerous. I might even forget about punishing her if I’m not careful.

I hold out my hand, and she runs back over, grabbing it. “If you want deer heads, love, then you shall have them. A whole fucking wall of them, if you want.”

We find our allotted seats. At least whoever worked this thing out was nice enough to seat the group of us together—Seb to Quinn’s right, then Eve, then Gabriel. There are a few Brothers in the group who haven’t taken a Ward yet, so the classic man-woman-man pattern is interrupted in places.

I do a quick count. Only three solo Brothers remain, Seb and Hadrian being two of them. Seb is going to have to pull his finger out soon and choose a girl. He’s being cagey about it, which isn’t normal behavior for him. I make a mental note to interrogatehim about it once everything settles down. I don’t think I’ll cope if he decides to leave it to the last bloody second like Gabriel did.

Exactly as predicted, Kendrick strides in once we’re all seated and takes up his place at the head of the heavy oak table. He’s dressed as he always is, in a classy but somber suit. Everyone falls quiet as he takes his place.

“Brothers! And your lovely Wards. I’m so happy to see you all here. It gives me great pleasure to see so many brilliant minds together at one table.”

There are murmurs of assent and raised glasses. By the looks of things, most of the group arrived earlier than Quinn and me and took advantage of the drinks. It has a feel of barely controlled rowdiness, like the speeches at a wedding.

“Please, relax. This isn’t a formal occasion. It's a chance for you all to enjoy each other’s company and some good food. To get to know each other better.”

He makes an almost imperceptible gesture with his head, and waiters appear with platters of food and drink. The room, and the old-fashioned service, gives the event a medieval feel. I’m half expecting a fucking jester to come out next.

I take orange juice for Quinn, much to her disgust, and a beer for myself. The food is fancy gourmet stuff, but there’s enough of it even I can't find anything to moan about. Seb shakes his head as I pile up my plate with a mixture of meats in sauces, three different types of potatoes, and three bread rolls. “Save some for the rest of us.”

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